Participants:
| Scene Title | Goths and Geeks |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | They run amok in a pizzeria, and one of them makes a waiter very happy. |
| Date | December 9, 2010 |
Cold. It's very, very cold. And Melissa is a very, very grumpy and hungry little evolved. She walks into the pizza place, wearing a surprisingly warm ankle length coat, black of course, over her black jeans and corset. It's never too cold for a corset, honest. She makes her way to a table, sitting down and tapping on the tabletop while waiting for a server. She unfastens her coat, but leaves it on, perhaps letting herself adjust to being inside in the warmth.
Panucci's, in the evening, is normally busy, but with all the craziness and martial law going on, business is slower than normal, with only a few tables filled. In the corner, a couple arguing about the price of an entree with a beaten-down looking waiter, and near the door, a woman who is sitting, almost posed, as if to catch the gaze of anyone walking by to say 'look at me!' without actually /saying/ it. The third and only other customer is a guy, dressed in comfortable-looking clothes - slacks and a button-down shirt with an apple logo on the breast, a laptop open on the table in front of him, a pizza with a single slice out of it sitting close to his right side. That missing slice is held, folded slightly in half, in his free hand, the man munching contentedly while surfing the web.
Patience isn't something that Melissa has a lot of right now, and she stares at the couple arguing with the waiter. "Hey, assholes. The waiter doesn't set the prices so pay for it or get something else already. There's other people here who want to eat you know," she says, voice loud enough to clearly carry to the couple. And to Dax. She rolls her eyes and looks around, giving the poser a dirty look. Dax gets a second look. She knows that face, but she can't immediately place it. So…Staring!
The feel of eyes on him slowly get Dax's attention, the silly article on the website he's reading forgotten for just a moment or two. The slice halfway between plate and mouth, Melissa gets a quick flick of a glance then, when he notices her staring, a stare in return, followed by a smile and a small wink before the slice is put down on the required plate. The couple arguing stop and shove an appropriate amount of money at the poor waiter and leave in a huff, the woman flipping Melissa off as she skedaddles. And if Melissa watches, the emphatic gesturing toward the window and facial expressions lead her to believe that this woman who just left is well and truly a bitch.
But she's staring at Dax, so she might have missed it. He coughs and takes a drink of his beer - a light reddish one, kind of strong stuff, but good on the tongue. "Hi?" The waiter slips up next to Melissa. "Thanks for that, lady. You going to join your friend over there, or do you need a table? Dinner's on me. They accidentally left $100 for a tip." The waiter seems positively joyful.
Oh no, she didn't miss it. And Melissa is in just a foul enough mood that she gives the woman a teeny little burst of pain. Sudden headache anyway? That seems to cheer her just a bit, enough to have her smirking, just a touch. Then she's arching her brows and looking up at the waiter, then to Dax, then back to the waiter and shrugging. "I'll eat with him. Make your job a little easier. And good on the tip. Jackasses like that deserve to be fleeced," she says, rising to head over towards Dax. "I know you, and can't figure out from where," she says as she joins him without asking if it's okay.
A wild blonde appears! Attack/Run?
Blue eyes watch as she weaves her way through the tables toward his. Originally Dax thought she'd sit nearby, but when the chair is pulled out and Melissa takes a seat, Dax looks…well…a bit surprised, to say the least. He could argue, or complain, but let's be honest, he's too nice of a guy to do that. Besides, she's cute, and conversation with interesting people always makes dinner more entertaining. "I…ah…um.." Another swallow of beer to lubricate the thought process. "Tartarus, I think. You…" He tilts his head. "Bartend?"
"Bartend? Hell no. I run Tartarus," Melissa says, shaking her head then looking towards the waiter. "Beer. Lots of it. And a large pie, pepperoni, sausage and mushrooms. And don't skimp on the fungus," she says before looking back to Dax. "But no, that's not it. I recognize most of my regulars. It's somewhere else. Keep wanting to link you to pain," she muses. Isn't that a lovely thing to say to a stranger?
Dax's pizza, a supreme with black olives, mushrooms, onions, and breakfast bacon, looks good, and smells good too. The waiter scurries off to fill Melissa's order, leaving Dax and Melissa alone at the table in the middle of the quiet restaurant. "Well…" She can see Dax starting to think, trying to recall where she might have seen him. "I work out at a boxing gym now and again. Coco's. Heard of it? Maybe you saw me there one day."
"Nope, or not exactly. I saw you in the basement of the gym," Melissa says as she connects the dots. "You didn't fight though, you were just in the crowd, I think," she says, leaning back to relax a bit more. "Which was where I was, so hey, go figure. Were you there making bets or something?"
Ah, so that's where she saw him….interesting. Dax lifts his glass and nods. "Yeah, just making a few bets. Did pretty good, too. Seemed all my bets paid off rather handsomely." The waiter returns with a beer - a four pack of some microbrew and a frosted glass which is placed triumphantly in front of Melissa and filled before he scurries off again, where Dax picks up the conversation. "I would have been fairly worthless in that fighting ring. A stand up fight, I can do pretty well, but against some of that stuff? Whew."
The beer is picked up and half of it is drank down before Melissa sets the glass down. "Not all the abilities are flashy," she murmurs with a shrug. "Some just give better reflexes or more stamina or whatever. But it is pretty random who you end up getting paired with. Like Luke and Harmony, since they seemed to have similar abilities."
"Well, still, I think I'd prefer to keep my head on my shoulders rather than having it knocked off for the entertainment of the masses." Dax chuckles and takes a swallow of his beer, his second if the bottle sitting near the napkin dispenser is any indication of how many he's had so far. "You run that too?"
"Oh, it's not to the death," Melissa says before muttering softly, "usually." Another drink, just a sip this time and she shakes her head. "Nah, I don't run it. Just Tartarus. i've just been there a couple of times is all. Can't say I've had good luck with bets there though." Mostly because she's never placed one.
"I guess I was just lucky, is all. It's not really my…scene, if you get my drift. I heard about it, it sounded interesting, so I went. Made a few bets, left with more money than I came with but not enough to get anyone's attention. All in all a good night." Dax scoots the napkin holder, the condiments, and his empty bottle aside as the pizza Melissa ordered makes an appearance, piled high with everything she ordered and what look like quartered whole mushrooms on top too. They didn't skimp on the fungus.
"Well, nice to meet you, Miss Tartarus-owner. I'll have to come check that place out sometime."
"Not owner, just manager," Melissa corrects. "And name's Melissa," she says, setting down her beer and looking at the pizza like she's just found the holy grail. "Well damn. That looks good. Awesome." And a piece is scooped up, a bite taken. "So what's your name, and why's a computer geek holed up in a pizzeria one a cold as fuck night?"
"I'm Dax. Nice to meet you, <chere>" He switches to french for that last, tinged with a twang that sounds like something from the deep, deep south. "And as far as what I'm doing her? That's why. I didn't feel like cooking and they make wonderful pizzas here. Ain't as good as Tauntie May's stuff, but getting authentic Cajun in new york is as hard as finding someone in the government you can trust."
"Huh. Sounds sorta like my reason. Except I couldn't cook if I was starving. I burn water. Seriously. If it involves anything more than making a sandwich, I make it inedible," Melissa says with a sigh. "Friends have tried to teach me, but it just doesn't work. Guess I'm meant to forever make restaurants rich."
"Not everyone can be a good cook. Otherwise we wouldn't have places like this to hang out. Me, I've got a black thumb. Can't even grow weeds." Another slice of Dax's pizza is taken up, the first devoured to the edges of the crust, brown from the wood-fired oven, a big bite taken out.
"I can't grow anything either," Melissa says with a wry smile. "Friend gave me a potted orchid. I'm shocked I haven't killed it yet. But I'll be damned if I don't run Tartarus well, and I can dance even better, so I've got my own skills," she says, before taking a few more bites. "And now that you know what I do, what do you do?"
"Me? I fit the computer nerd profile. I spend my days making them do things they're supposed to, pull chips, repair boards…I repair the damn things, and you'd be surprised at the amount of work I get after every catastrophe." Dax says, wiping his face with a napkin. "Dancing I could probably do, and running a club? I have enough fun running my little hole in the wall. Arranging all the stuff that makes a club tick? Make my head pop like a tick.
"Yep, not a job I'd ever wanna do," Melissa says, nodding and grinning. "But I love working at the club. It's doing well too, given it's the first place I've ever managed. But damn if the hours don't suck. This is my one day off this month aside from Christmas day. And it's been a hell of a crappy day. Beer makes it better though. Beer and pizza."
